Grimm
by Kyandua
Summary: There once was a boy who was friends with the Grimm Reaper. But Harry Potter is no longer a boy; he evolved, through space and time, into something new, wild and dangerous. Getting tangled up in the secrets of S.H.I.E.L.D., it is only a matter of time before Harry is noticed. Noticed not only by the Avengers, but by beings far more powerful, and deadly. T for violence and swearing.
1. Prologue

Hi all! So... new HP/Avengers crossover? No sure whether to continue or not. What do you think, dear mortal readers? Also, I know nothing about universities in America. So excuse any bullshitting. I know the set-up of the lab-room is not optimal. Anyways, ENJOY! :D

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, or the Avengers. All I own is my laptop and whatever plots I come up with to use in the infinite playground presented to me by other inspirational creators. So don't sue me.

Anyone recognise the special guest who appears...?

**Prologue**

"OH GREAT! Stupid! STUPID!"

If only she had realised, as she picked up her dripping, rain-filled work boots off the front step, that bringing them in the night before would have saved her an abhorrent amount of trouble. But, then again, fate did have an odd way of pulling all those in to complete their destiny, so if it had not been the slimy, soaked shoes… it probably would have been something else as equally devastating, like spilling orange juice down her uniform or finding maggots in her ham sandwich; anything that would lead her to the sink in the lab room.

At that moment, however, all Darcy Lewis could think about was the dismay at having to wear wet boots to work, as there was no time to dry them, nor did she have enough money to buy a new pair.

So, rushing out of her apartment with squelching shoes and no breakfast, she began what happened to be one of the worst days of her life. And the most incredible.

If the boots were not bad enough, then her car, refusing to start, confirmed her suspicions that the day would be utterly miserable. As if setting off dominos, everything started toppling downhill.

She had to run to work. The busses ran every half hour, so she did not have time to catch one, because she was due at work in five minutes. Then the rain clouds, which had so generously filled her boots during the night, decided that she needed a shower, soaking her to the bone.

She arrived at work ten minutes late, dripping wet. To top that off, the water in her boots had soaked completely through her socks. And almost nothing, in her opinion, was worse than slimy, wet, stinking socks.

After a ten-minute lecture from her boss, Darcy was given a mop, a bucket and a bag full of cleaning gear, and then sent off to scrub the toilets.

Yes, you heard right. _Darcy Lewis. Scrubbing toilets._ All thanks to S.H.I.E.L.D.

Because of them, she was sent undercover in this hellhole.

It had started with the death of Director Fury. Or, well, his not-death. Though she had not known that at first, and would never admit to having cried for the pirate-eyed-agent. With the attacks on S.H.I.E.L.D, all agents, consultants and scientists that were loyal to him, and could be spared, had been sent away, with meagre money rations and no idea of what was happening. Darcy had, since then, seen the destruction of the heli-carrier on the news.

But there was nothing she could do. She had been sent away, for which she was mostly glad. What could she do, besides run her smart mouth and fire her taser? Nothing against the half-man half-machine Winter Soldier! Though she wouldn't mind giving Captain America, in his tight, sexy spandex, a bit of moral support!

And where were Jane and Thor in all of this? On their honeymoon. In France. And Darcy had no way of communicating with them, for fear of messages and phone calls being traced by Hydra. The bastards. No friends, no family, no idea-of-anything-that-was-happening! All she could do was continue living the live of a boring mortal, in hopes that S.H.I.E.L.D would quickly sort out their issues and give her a green light.

Even Intern…. err…. _Ian_, who had remained in London while she and Jane had moved back to New York, was currently unavailable to her. Not that their relationship was going very far.

And so, with her grant of cash for undercover living, she was forced to take on a new identity as "Darcy Benson", and work as the cleaner for Springfield university. In Ohio. _Ohio._ And once again, she was without her beautiful iPod.

Scrubbing around the basins and polishing the taps, she paused as she glanced into the mirror, spotting the dark, purple rings under her, usually vibrant, blue eyes. Her curly, brown hair, sitting just below her shoulders and tied back in a loose ponytail, had turned into a sticky, messy mass that clung to her face. She grimaced, placing the brush down for a moment and wiping a piece of fringe out of her eyes.

At least she still had her looks, she thought with a light grin. She was sure she had been a model in a previous life… when you looked at her nerdy frame from the right angle, at least. Speaking of her nerdy frame… she frowned as she inspected her butt. Had she put on weight? Probably. Time to lay off the comfort foods. Grimacing, the turned back to her tools.

She then proceeded to accidentally elbow the scrubbing brush she put down, knocking it flying onto the floor. Detergent and bubbles flew in every direction, splattering all over the tiles. She gritted her teeth in frustration, yanking a towel out of her cleaning bag and beginning to soak it up, before some poor student or professor wandered through and slipped.

As it happened, she did not need to worry about other people; she should have been more worried about herself. As she turned around, after finally cleaning up all the mess on the floor, she stood on the scrubbing brush, which she had conveniently forgotten to pick up.

Needless to say, by the time she had finished cleaning that bathroom, she had bruises forming on her back and was reciting curses she hadn't used since high school, with a few new additions, courtesy of Tony Stark, added in. She even invented a few words.

By midday she was starving, having forgotten to have breakfast in her rush to run to work. Placing her cleaning gear in a supply closet and wiping her hands on the ridiculous, brown jump-suit they called a uniform (it was the most unflattering thing she had worn since her compulsory middle-school uniform), she headed towards the cafeteria, hoping to find something hot.

Wandering down the hall, Darcy glanced sneakily in the windows of the different rooms in the medical and science wings, looking to see if anything interesting was happening. Strange things often turned up at the university. Often looking slightly… _otherworldly_.

As she glanced into the window of a lab room (which appeared empty), however, her boots, which seemed to think she had ignored them for too long, decided to add another negative point to her day.

The wet shoe hit a particularly slippery tile, and she lurched forwards, smacking her nose into doorframe with a nasty thud before she could raise her hands in defence.

"By Thor Almightly! Why? What have I done to deserve this punishment? Damn you universe, just throw me into Mount Doom and be done with!" She moaned.

Groping blindly for the doorframe to steady herself as she stood up, Darcy watched a few drops of red appear on the white tiles at her feet.

Where was that coming from? Whoever made that mess was going to be in serious trouble…

Then she realised that it was coming from her hand. Which was still cradling her wounded nose.

"Ah crap!" She swore, suddenly realizing her predicament. A few people wandering by paused, one obviously trying not to laugh, while the other looked mildly concerned.

Darcy's eyes watered as her nose throbbed painfully. She rummaged around frantically in her pockets, hoping there was a tissue. The almost-laughing man, with slicked back blonde hair and honey-brown eyes, stepped forwards, brandishing a key and pushing her to the side, quickly unlocking the door to Taxidermy Room 3.

"Go clean yourself up in there, Kid, quick! There should be tissues by the sink. But Don't touch anything!" The man warned, although his lips were still twitching at the corners.

As she lunged for the sink, Darcy vaguely noted the door closing behind her. Snatching a lump of paper towels, she stuffed them into her face, thoroughly embarrassed with the scene she had caused.

_ The amazing Taser of Gods, brought down by a door frame…_

It took her ten minutes to completely stop the bleeding. By then, her lunch break was over, and she had spots of dried blood on her uniform. Binning the last of the bloody tissues and paper towels, she washed the smears of blood off her face and hands.

Sighing, she stood on her tiptoes to glance in the tiny mirror on a cupboard door, grimacing as she inspected her swollen, purple nasal regions and already-blackening eyes.

She blinked as she stared at the boring, white room. Rows of shelving lined the walls, each obviously containing some kind of stuffed mammal. An archaeozoology lab, then.

A large, wooden desk sat in the centre of the room, holding stacks of paper and empty coffee mugs. Darcy grimaced. She would be blamed for the dirty state of the mugs, for sure, even though she was not generally allowed in this particular room.

Glancing at the clock suspended on the wall (it was also white), she frowned as she noticed the time. If the Boss caught her now, she would be in even more trouble (Though he was nowhere near as scary as Fury, she had to admit).

Moving quickly towards the door, she turned the handle and pushed it open with her shoulder. Only, it did not open. It was locked, she realised, as she slammed into it, knocking her nose lightly. Her eyes watered again, and her hands flew up to her face, making sure that it was not bleeding again.

Relief washed through her, followed by a slight twinge of anxiety. She was locked in! And she did not have a key – she was not permitted to clean the labs rooms; she was just a lowly bathroom cleaner; meaning no access. When she had enquired, the manager had muttered something about a previous young man who had stolen a stuffed monkey head and worn it to a wedding. Darcy decided not to pry after that.

She pressed her face against the small window in the door, hoping somebody would notice her predicament, like the man who had let her in.

However, they all seemed to be either having extended lunch breaks, or had taken off to attend lectures.

But now, because of that, she was stuck. Groaning, she ran her fingers through her hair, pulling a few long strands loose, no-doubt making herself look even worse.

Then her eyes locked onto a note, stuck to one of the large freezer doors at the end of the room, which held the more… _fresh_, specimens.

She could not help herself. She picked it up gently, eyes brushing over the writing.

Dr. Roper,

Thought you'd like this beast! They found it in the possession of some smugglers a few weeks ago, along with two mummified queens and thirty mummified cats. I managed to get my hands on it for a few days; thought you'd like to have a look at it! It's going to be shipped off to California on Monday, though, so you should hurry if you want to examine it before Dr. Gaustein gets his hands on it!

Anyway, it's from London, originally; it came through one of those portals a few months ago. What realm it was from, I don't know, but it's certainly not from earth. Enjoy.

From your ever faithful ex-student,

Timmy Cloughman

Sticking the note back on the door, she felt her eyes flickering to the latch on the cupboard. Should she?

Dr. Roper was notorious for his anger issues, and had nearly been fired numerous times, however was still a valuable asset to the university, so had not been. Students trembled in his wake, and even the other staff avoided him. So should she risk it?

She could be fired… but, then again, the freezers could not be seen from the door, and she would hear the door being unlocked, and she was going to be in trouble for being in the room in the first place _anyway_…

…And she was over this job, anyway. She had made up her mind.

With nimble fingers, she un-did the latch – feeling quite relieved that it was not padlocked like some of the other freezer drawers – and pulled it open, her eyes widening as she looked upon, what had to be, the most amazing creature she had ever seen.

It was a wolf. And it was massive. Though folded and crammed into the tiny freezer compartment, Darcy was sure that it would be able to stare her straight in the eye, were it standing on all fours.

It was still completely furred, with no evident decomposition. It looked a bit thin, yes; but even in death, beast still looked like it could get up and walk away. And eat the boring old lecturers who ran the university. Or, possibly, her.

Slowly running her fingers though the inky, black fur, her eyes took in its broad shoulders, lean muscles and lithe frame. It was beautiful, yet so terrifying at the same time. Kind of like Loki, she thought with a quick smirk, as she thought of Thor's hot (and dead, she reminded herself), bad-boy brother. Though his personality left something to be desired, sure.

Leaning forwards slightly, she carefully used her thumb to open the beast's eyelid. What colour would its eyes be? Gold or brown, like grey wolves? Black? Orange? Red? How different were galactic wolves to Earthly wolves?

Green. Although dull and milky, the eye was clearly a deep, emerald green.

"So, Space-Lassie; what realm are you from?" She murmured to the creature, holding out a hand in the typical Vulcan Salute. "Nanu-nanu."

She poked its ear, still half-expecting it to leap up an eat her… not that a Trekkie greeting was going to help her any if it did.

Of course, talking to oneself was said to be the first sign of madness, she knew, but for lack of anything better to do, she held it in her defence that she was at least talking to _something_, even if that 'something' was dead.

The rattle of the door. Fumbling of a key. Oh no.

Darcy leapt up, jamming the wheelie chair back against the desk and lunging for the freezer drawer, shoving hard. It was jammed! She shook it frantically, but the draw refused to move. The door opened, and a man – who Darcy recognised as the grouchy Dr. Roper, stepped in, eyes instantly flicking over her and the space-wolf.

"How dare you, Girl! What are you even doing in here? And mooching around in my property no less?"

The man continued to shout, his face lighting up like a tomato, as he stormed over to Darcy, spit flying from his mouth.

"But – I was locked in! I just needed-"

"I don't care for your fancy excuses, Girl! Say goodbye to your job, say goodbye to your career, and say goodbye to your money, 'CAUSE YOU'RE GOING TO COURT FOR THIS!"

By then, Darcy was cowering against one of the desks, the large, tomato-faced man towering over her, eyes scrunched up in rage. She wanted her taser. Now.

"But, I-"

"You'll regret this for the rest of your life! Now, where are those blasted security guards?

"NO! I -"

"YOU STUPID CLEANING GIRL, STICKING YOUR NOSE WHERE IT DOESN'T BELONG…"

"Sheesh! So much howling! Don't listen to him, kid. He's all bark and no bite." A casual, male voice snorted softly from behind Dr. Roper. Despite the low volume, the voice was heard clearly.

Dr. Roper stepped aside, whirling around, allowing Darcy full view of a man… boy…. It was difficult to tell his exact age, but he was young.

A full head of thick, black hair, brushing his shoulders in a wild tangle, almost Loki-esque, except messier and not combed back. He had a narrow, plain-looking nose and lips that looked ready to smirk. His skin was pale and flawless, eyes bright, glowing green. His most distinguishing feature, however, a lighting-bolt shaped scar on his forehead, almost hidden under his dark bangs.

He was tall, too; At least six feet tall.

"Wha… Who are you? How did you get in here?" Dr. Roper spat, stepping menacingly towards the man. The man raised one eyebrow, glancing incredulously at the him.

"Some idiot woke me up with all his shouting… And where am I, anyway? Last time I checked I was in Spain…" He murmured casually, as if waking up in unknown places was something he did rather frequently.

Darcy felt a shiver run up her spine as the man's eyes locked onto her. There was something seriously wrong with him…

"I must ask you to leave, IMMEDIATELY!" Dr. Roper shouted, grabbing the stranger's arm. The man's eyes narrowed.

"If you value your life, human, let go of my arm." An animalistic growl rumbled from the man's lips.

Darcy instantly tried backing away the moment she heard the word "human", however she found herself rooted to the spot, unable to move. Whatever he was, he wasn't of Earth. And he somehow didn't feel like an Asgardian.

Dr. Roper, however, did not seem to realise his danger and scowled, giving the man's limb a yank as he dragged him towards the door.

"Don't talk to me like that, young man!" The angry professor spat.

"I'll tell you again. Let. Me. Go. I'm not asking; I'm telling." The stranger snarled.

Darcy watched with wide eyes as he yanked his arm from Dr. Roper's grip, elbowing him hard in the gut.

"HOW DARE YOU!" Dr. Roper gasped. "I'LL HAVE YOU ARRESTED!"

Still not getting the warning, Dr. Roper lunged forwards, grabbing the stranger's wrists and pulling them behind his back, as if to cuff him.

Darcy blinked. The man thrust her head back hard.

A deafening crack echoed around the room as the back of his skull collided with Dr. Roper's face. Blood spurted from the older man's nose and mouth, a few teeth skittering across the floor in a smear of red. Dr. Roper slumped to the ground, unconscious.

Darcy gasped in a mixture of fear and astonishment. The man stood staring at the unconscious man on the floor, an amused look on her face.

"What… you, just…. Oh God! Oh God!" Darcy stammered, clenching her fists tightly against the table behind her, unable to look away from the grouchy old man lying unconscious on the floor. The strange guy snorted.

"He's fine. Just unconscious… I did warn him."

"Wha… but, who?" Darcy's eyes flickered over to the freezer the wolf was resting it, except… it was gone. Empty. And the man... "Great. Great! First Thor, then a giant Robot, then bug-aliens, then creepy elf-dudes… and now a _werewolf?_"

"I'm not a werewolf. If you don't mind… What's the date… and what happened to your face?" He chortled, taking a step closer to inspect her black eye.

"3rd of June, and I had a fight with a door. It won." She stated, her mind still whirling. She took a few steps backwards, towards the door. It seemed friendly enough, but who knew?

"Well, that was stupid." He smiled, taking a few steps, placing himself between Darcy and the door. Cursing mentally, she shoved her fear down, trying to act normally.

She carefully took a few steps forward and prodded Dr. Roper with her boot (which was still wet), frowning as her foot came into contact with solid flesh.

Dr. Roper snorted, but did not wake.

"Who are you? What realm are you from?" She stammered, glancing up to meet his eyes.

"Harry Potter. Or Grimm. It depends who you ask. And I hail from a realm much like this one… yet also very different. "

"And, uh… did you, really…?" She stammered, nodding her head towards the empty museum draw

The green-eyed man snorted.

"Come out of that cramped draw? Yes."

"So… Van Helsing, or Twilight?" She said, and then cursed her running mouth. The man, however, only smirked.

"Neither. I told you earlier; I'm not a werewolf."

"Then what are you?"

"Something too difficult for you to comprehend."

"Fine. Werewolf." She grinned. He shot her a light-hearted glare.

"I do not run around howling at the full moon. And trust me; I've met a real werewolf. I'm certainly not one of them."

"You keep telling yourself that… wait… are you wearing a set of black cleaning clothes?" She asked, incredulous. Although the entire outfit was black, it was an exact match for the uniform she was wearing. The man glanced down, seeming to notice it for the first time himself, before a slight hue of red appeared on his cheeks.

"It was the first thing I thought of. It's less conspicuous than robes, in any case."

"Robes? Who wears _robes_ in this day and age?" She barked.

Darcy suddenly glanced back down at Dr. Roper, who moaned loudly, seeming to stir. A flash of fear ran through her. "We have to get out of here! I'm not supposed to be in here, I think I'm fired, and now that you've assaulted him… oh God, I'm going to be in so much trouble! Damn it! Where's S.H.I.E.L.D. and their get-out-of-gaol-free cards when you need them!"

It seemed that she was right, too; at that moment, the security guards, who had apparently heard the shouting, rushed through the door, spotted the unconscious man, and promptly arrested Darcy and the odd-looking alien not-werewolf.

The cell at the police station was cold and dark. Through a single door, Darcy could hear laughter and chattering, however sitting alone in the cell – apart from the strange man sitting on the bench beside her – she was starting to question what was worse – the fact that she was bound in hand-cuffs, with a one way ticket to prison (or, at least, an enormous fine or costly court case), or the fact that her boots were still soggy and her was sure that her feet would resemble prunes by now.

At least she didn't have to worry about her false identity being found out; S.H.I.E.L.D were the master of cover-ups, after all.

"You never told me your name, you know."

Darcy jumped violently.

"Dude! Don't do that!" She yelped. He grinned.

"Sure. Now, what's your name?"

"Darcy. Uhh…. What should I call you? I mean, I could just call you Fido, or Space-Dog, or Alien or something but… is just Harry, ok?" She rambled. He stared at her with an odd expression for a moment, before nodding.

"Just Harry. Just Harry is fine."

They sat in silence for a few moments, before Darcy's mouth ran off again.

"Ok… well, say that you _are_ a shape-shifter alien thingy… how long ago were you alive? If that makes any sense…"

"It's kind of confusing." He frowned, chewing on his bottom lip. "I have been through many worlds, many universes, and each is slightly different. I die all the time, and am reborn. Sometimes in the same place, sometimes in another world. Sometimes I'm a baby when I awaken, sometimes an adult… though physically, I've never made it past the age of about twenty-five midgardian years, even if I live a few hundred without dying. Sometimes I awaken and it's present day, sometimes it's in the past, others, the future. It's confusing. I've done it hundreds of times, and I've done it only once. I can't explain it."

"Ugh… yeah. You're giving me a headache just talking about it." Darcy grimaced, trying to wrap her head around it. "So… you die, but you don't? Every played dumb ways to die?" She snickered. Harry rolled his eyes.

"Not deliberately, but some are rather amusing, I suppose. I get killed by things all the time, but then wake up a few days – or weeks, or years, it varies – later, generally in awkward places."

Darcy watched, unsure what to do, as the woman placed her head in her hands.

"Um… right. So, you've lived through… well, all of history? But you haven't" She snorted. He raised an eyebrow.

"Not all of it, but quite a bit of it, in different lives, bodies and universes."

"Ok…" She fell silent for a minute, but her mouth won, as usual. "… Did you meet Jesus?"

The man short her a dirty, exasperated look, scoffing lightly.

"_Seriously?_" He said, pulling a face at her.

"What? It was a serious question!" She laughed. He rolled his eyes, looking away from her. She figured that was the best answer she would get.

"So, what are you going to do now, considering we don't get locked up in prison?

"… Are the Avengers, in this world?" He asked. Darcy's eyes widened.

"Yep. Considering we're talking about the same Avengers. You do mean Spangles, Iron-Pants, Spider-Woman, Robin Hood, the giant Grinch and God of Pop-tarts, right?"

Harry let out a quiet laugh.

"Yes, those Avengers. I fought with them, at the battle in New York… though my presence didn't make it into the news, fortunately!"

"So, you know about the whole S.H.I.E.L.D debacle, then?"

"Not quite. Care to enlighten me?"

"Nothing much to tell. Idiots kept secrets, secrets attracted more secrets, secret secrets attracted back guys and now the whole operation is compromised and I'm stuck undercover until more idiots create new secrets to cover the old secrets up." Darcy said all in one breath.

"Right…"

"And how'd you get involved with the Avengers, anyway?" She asked.

"I worked for shield for ten years before Loki arrived."

"Seriously? Huh. Never saw you; and I saw quite a few when they stole my iPod." Darcy muttered. The man looked at her oddly for a moment.

"So? Van Helsing, or Twilight?" She said suddenly. He sighed.

"I told you, I'm not a werewolf!"

"Then what are you? Not human, obviously!" She smirked. He groaned, tilting his handsome head backwards against the cell bars.

"It's a long story. And you probably won't understand most of it." He said.

Darcy huffed, laughing almost manically.

"Well, thanks to you, I think we're going to be in here for a long time."

"Fine." Harry sighed, running his fingers through his hair once. "I'll tell you a bit about my life. Though you probably won't understand most of it, but you need a bit of background to understand what I am."

"We're going to be here for a while, so why don't you add in how you came to work with the avengers for good measure? You owe it to my anyway, considering you got me arrested, Sam!"

Harry's eyebrows creased.

"_Sam_?"

"Yeah. You know; from Twilight. Big black wolf! Probably not my best reference…" Darcy mumbled, "Was going to say Jacob… but oh well!"

Harry rolled his glowing, green eyes.

"Alright. Whatever. It all started in a normal town, in a normal suburb, on a normal street, at a normal house, on a normal doorstep owned by the most normal family in the universe, called the Dursleys. Mr and Mrs. Dursley and they son, Dudley, of number four, Privet Drive, were perfectly normal, thankyou very much. However the boy who was left on their doorstep was probably the most un-normal being in the universe. He was the boy, who was friends with the Grimm Reaper."


	2. Chapter 1

Hi! :D New chapter. Hope you all like it :) The POV skips around a bit, however that's just to set the scene. Won't happen much more ;) In any case, don't expect an update for another week or so. I have uni presentations due -_-

Chapter 1

The first time Harry Potter met the Grimm Reaper, he was five years old and trapped in the tiny cupboard under the stairs. Not that he knew what the Reaper was, of course. In fact, Harry simply assumed that the Reaper was his imaginary friend, and named him Thelassala.

Looking back when he was older, Harry was incredibly embarrassed about the made up name, but that was beside the point.

When the Reaper first appeared, she took the form of a kitten. Wispy black fur, as soft as the down from a newly hatched chicken, seemed to crackle and shimmer in the light, almost as if the cat was made of smoke that was continuously blending into the air around it.

Little Harry liked cats. Although not entirely fond of Mrs. Figg's (she owned slightly too many, so they tended to be more feral than friendly), he held a great fondness for all of the feline species. His favourite was a medium-sized tabby cat, which had claimed the corner of Privet Drive as her own, and often visited him when he was working in the front yard.

It was because of his fondness of cats, that the Reaper introduced himself in the form of one. Although young Harry was quite curious as to how the strange creature got into his cupboard, he instantly accepted the strange creature, despite its very unnatural, supernatural-looking fur (which was about as Un-Dursleyish as could be) and bright, glowing, blue eyes.

Over the course of two years, "Thelassala" visited Harry often. And not always in the same form.

Although forced, by his relatives, to get worse marks than Dudley, Harry was actually quite a smart child. When he noticed the wispy, black feathers of a crow with glowing blue eyes, he knew instantly that it was his friend. And when he spotted the massive, wolfish dog with gleaming teeth that followed him through the shadows of the bush in the park as he walked home from school, he knew that this was his friend also, and that "Thelassala" was looking out for him.

But Magic did not exist.

This was something that the Dursleys had drilled into him from the very start. And when he had tried to introduce them to his new friend, his Aunt and Uncle had shouted themselves hoarse and then locked him in his cupboard.

It was then that Harry realised that nobody else could see his friend; therefore his friend did not exist.

But that was ok; Harry had no friends anyway, so an imaginary friend was better than no friends, and this was a friend he could keep all to himself.

Harry never mentioned his imaginary friend again, but that was not the end of their story together.

When Harry was eight years old, Uncle Vernon lost his job.

In truth, Vernon had been abusing the other employees with his atrocious attitude and temper, had been neglecting his paperwork and had been ordering others around without having any authority to. This had him on the warning list for a while. What set it off, however, was when he had sexually abused once of the secretaries. It was not an offense serious enough to have him sent to gaol, but it had been the last straw for the company.

Of course, none of it was Vernon's fault. He had been enchanted by magic, and so had all the other employees, who had been cursed to turn against him. Or that was what he told himself, in any case.

So he took it out on eight-year-old Harry Potter.

Harry would never forget that night, even hundreds of years later.

The looming, quivering bulk of his uncle, towering above him.

The bottle of whiskey, smashed against the kitchen cabinet.

_Fear_.

The stink of alcohol, sharp and bitter, on his uncle's heavy breath.

The roar of wild, feral anger as his uncles meaty fists pounded upon his frail body.

_ Pain_.

So much pain.

'_Meet me by the swings, child. We shall run together. We shall fly away. Do not fear; I will take you away from this place.'_

A soft, feminine voice whispered hands brushing over his aching body.

The pain dulled slightly.

That night was the last time Harry ever saw the Dursleys. He dragged his aching, bruised and bloody body out the door, mind whirling. He did not even consider taking any supplies, such as food or blankets (not that he owned any, in any case). Barefoot, dressed only in the bloodied rags that had once been his cousins' many-sizes-too-big clothing, his stepped into the icy street, eyes raised to the dark, midnight sky, from which a few small snowflakes fell.

A freezing wind tugged at his hair, chilling him to the bone.

It was time to leave.

He limped towards the park, toes grazing the gravel as he shuffled along, the sharp pains on his feet from glass and rock not even registering in his mind compared to the pain in his chest and arm.

He was scared, but he trusted his friend.

And she did not disappoint him.

A wolf awaited him at the park, her glowing blue eyes solemn. Her whispy black fur bled into the darkness around them, her outline just visible in the light from the street lamp.

"It hurts!" Harry whispered, lurching forwards to wrap his arms around her. The wolf whined in distress.

'_I know, child. But you will heal. Now let us leave.' _She whispered into his mind. Harry nodded.

The wolf led on into the trees. Harry did not let go of her fur, so soft it was almost air, and found himself the patters it made as it shimmered and smoked, blending with the green fog around them.

Deeper into the trees they walked, and Harry could have sworn that the small bush area in the park should have ended by now.

"Where are we going?" he murmured quietly, still leaning heavily upon her.

'_To the wilds. But not of this realm.'_

Though he did not understand her words, he trusted her.

And so Harry Potter disappeared through space and time, and would not reappear until he was eleven years old.

"Steady… no, for the fourth time, don't bend your wrist like that! Now aim. No, AIM! Just because you're looking at the target it doesn't mean your spear is pointing in the right direction… yes. That's better. Now try."

The spear did not hit the intended ground turkey, but it came close, missing by a finger-width, causing the bird to cackle wildly and dart into the undergrowth, out of sight.

"Ugh. I missed." The boy said softly, shoulders drooping. Mortis smiled.

"Yes, but only just. It takes a lot of practise, and this spear is heavier than what you're used to… and trust me, when I say, that you're already a better aim than half of the Kiya villagers at Teryuo, who couldn't hit the backside of a mammoth if it were about to sit on them."

Harry laughed softly, picking up the spear from the dirt and stepping around a few tangled vines. The eleven-summer-old boy grinned up at her. He had grown incredibly in the two summers, the top of his head reaching Mortis's chest.

"Can we go down to the river? I feel like fish!" He grinned. Mortis snorted.

"Fine. But I can't guarantee that you'll catch anything. And I'm not catching anything for you."

Three summers. It had been three summers since she had taken the boy away from his relatives.

And it had been difficult. As a human child, Harry was not adept for surviving in the forests of other worlds, and was too young to fend for himself in even the slightest ways. Numerous times, she had turned away for a mere second to find the boy caught between the jaws of a predator, hanging upside down from a tree or being dragged around through the dirt by and elk or forest bison he had attempted to catch.

It was perhaps the most difficult job the Reaper had taken on. But the most worth it. Even if she had to take the form of a humanoid to teach him. It was very time consuming. But she had plenty of time, anyway. Unlike what the mortals generally thought of her, Mortis did not, in fact, go around picking and killing those who had reached their allotted time. No; her job was to keep the _balance_.

That meant that it was her job to make sure any rogue souls were put to sleep, and any who skipped or cheated death would meet their deserved end. And stopping any potential zombie apocalypses. That was her job too.

She could not bring back the dead, either, though she, herself, seemed to keep coming back to life whenever she died. Harry, on the other hand, was mortal; and therefore was very vulnerable.

Mortis taught him how to survive; however he was still a child. He did not have the strength to fight off long-tooth cats, wolves or serpents. And she worried for him; humans had no place in the wild planets, lost deep within the galaxy; but this was the best place for him. He had _potential_. And that was something that high, evil beings desired.

Taking a breath, she picked a small path, marked by a thin line of dirt visible amongst the grass and undergrowth, a slight gap in the tangle of vines and branches overhead. Her eyes snapped to the left, locking onto the beady, purple eyes of a nectar-feeding reptile, no bigger than her hand, which was perched amongst some leaves, staring at her.

Huffing slightly, she pushed her way through some overgrown branches, grimacing as a few spindly sticks became snagged in her furs. She held them out of the way for a moment, allowing Harry to pass through.

"Mortis?"

"Yeah, kid?" She answered, slapping idly at a blood-drinking insect that buzzed around her arm.

"Winter must be coming soon… when will we start heading south?"

"When the first winter winds begin blowing. There's no point moving to early; there's still good hunting around here. Why?"

"Just wandering." He shrugged, tucking a loose strand of hair behind his ear. Mortis eyed it with distaste. Harry' hair, like her own, was long, sitting a human-hand's width below his collar, and tied back in a braid. A few loose stands, however, continued to come loose, forever getting into his eyes. It seemed the messy birds nest won out, not matter how long he grew it.

"You're not pining over that girl from the Teryuo tribe again, are you?" She snorted. On one of the paths travelling south the previous winter, they had stumbled across a rather large tribe of alien humanoids, camped at the base of the foothills. Deciding that Harry could use the interaction with a similar species, they had stayed there for a few days. Despite the difference in skin colour (the Kiya, unlike his fleshy pink, had strange purple skin), he had fit right in. Harry raised an eyebrow, a habit he had obviously picked up from Mortis herself.

"Which one?" He smirked.

Mortis paused, raising an eyebrow in return.

"You're nine."

"Well, yeah; but if I get them to like me now, they'll like me even more when I'm old enough to pick a mate, and I'll have a lot more to choose from!"

"Oh, for the love of – ugh… never mind." Mortis snorted, shaking her head.

Stepping around a patch of thorns, her lips curled in annoyance as a branch snagged her hair. Harry, who was short enough to avoid most of the tugging branches, snickered lightly, pausing for a moment, his face turning innocent with a slight pout.

"Mortis?" He murmured softly. Her eyes narrowed.

"What?"

"My feet hurt… can you carry me?"

"No. Your feet don't actually hurt; you just can't be bothered walking. You wanted to go to the river, so you can walk there yourself!"

Harry face turned mischievous once again.

"Yeah, well; it was worth a shot!"

Harry was rather fond of her different forms, and often tried to persuade her into shifting into something large and dangerous. Mortis preferred to avoid that as much as possible.

Slapping a few more branches out of her way, she lead on, hoping Harry could retain his attention span until they arrived. It is a foolish hope.

"Why haven't you taken a mate?"

"Because I haven't met anyone who'll put up with me for longer than a few minutes, and those that do are either already bonded, the wrong species or not interested."

"What does the species matter? You can become anything you want!"

"No I can't. And I don't want to… it's awkward. I am not a creature born for love. I'm a Reaper. I keep the balance, nothing more."

Silence. Mortis almost sighed in relief, however she knew it was only momentary.

"Will I ever be able to shift?"

"Probably not."

"Have you ever met a Bilgesnipe?"

"Twice. One was dead. The other was angry and I never want to cross paths with again."

"How much longer to the river?"

"At least an hour's walk."

"Have you ever met a dragon?"

"Yes. It was blind. And purple… and it had a weird mouth."

"Did it try to eat you?"

"No." Mortis had found, over time, that Harry would not relent with his questioning, whether one gave a detailed answer or not. So it was best to just answer shortly and sharply, until he ran out of things to enquire about.

"How far south do the _arek_s fly?"

"I have no idea."

"Have you ever met a _rocea?_"

"I'm alive, aren't I?"

"... What about an Elf from _Alfheim_? They're good at magic. Why can't you take one of them as a mate?"

"Why are we back on this subject again? I'm not interested. You'll understand when you're older."

Harry always hated it when she said that, and Mortis hated saying it; however, no matter how much she thought over it, she could not figure out how to explain the mating call to the boy, and why she did not have it.

As the sound of the river finally reached her ears, Mortis all but pushed the boy out towards the water, shoving her spear into his hands. Harry let out a whoop of excitement, finding an overhanging log to perch on as his eyes scanned the water for fish, feet resting in a bed of green moss.

Glad for the sudden silence, Mortis sighed in relief, resting her back against a tree trunk as her eyes scanned the area, checking for danger. A few small animals darted about through the longer grasses, but there seemed to be no predators around. There was a strange scent, however, that had her frowning.

"Harry! I'm going for a quick scout of the area! Be careful; if any predators find you, call for me, or jump in the river or something."

"I'll be fine."

"Don't go wandering aimlessly!" She warned, before shifting into her familiar form of a large wolf, disappearing into the trees.

Harry held his hand steady, green eyes narrowed in focus. A few medium-sized fish travelled upstream, silver scales shimmering in the icy water. He was actually doing surprisingly well; he already had eight large fish tied to his belt. It was breeding season for the fish, and because of this, they were all swimming hurriedly upstream, allowing for a good hunting opportunity.

Perched on his log, Harry did not notice the other beings nearby until they were less than twenty meters away.

He froze, spear gripped tightly in hand, eyes wide.

Just downriver, standing on the pebbled banks, were a group of six humanoids, refilling their waterskins.

And they were huge; easily taller than Mortis. Even the only female of the group was at least half a head taller than his friend. With the exception of one lanky, black-haired male, all were heavily muscled. They were dressed in metal and leather armour, capes of bright colour draped behind them.

Swallowing heavily, Harry dared not to move. They had not noticed him yet, however all would have perfect view of him, should they turn to the left. Hoping if he stayed perfectly still he would remain invisible, Harry eyed each of them in turn, trying to figure out where they had come from. Not this planet; the only humanoids here were the Kiya. And their purple skin was a dead giveaway.

And these beings were certainly _not_ purple. In fact… they were the same colour as him!

The first, and obviously the leader, was big, blonde and boisterous, with a voice that boomed like thunder. His cape was red, and in his hand, he held a nasty-looking hammer.

The second, the lanky, black-haired male, was dressed in far lighter armour, his cloak emerald green, just a few shades darker than Harry's eyes.

The third, the female, with her dark hair and scowl, looked even scarier than the first.

The final three made Harry even more nervous. They were three men, wrestling amongst themselves. One had a rather massive girth.

"I _told_ you we shouldn't have listened to that old geezer! But when does _anyone_ listen to _Loki?_ And now look! We're so deep in the galaxy I doubt even Heimdall can find us! And, to top it all off, we've lost Father's favourite shield!"

"SHUT UP, LOKI!" The enormous blonde boomed at the lanky green-armoured man.

"Both of you; stop arguing!" The woman barked. "We need to set up camp for the night, before it gets dark! Who knows what strange beasts are out there… Volstagg! Stop eating the rations! Who knows how long we're going to be trapped on this overgrown mess of a planet!"

A scuffle suddenly broke out between between two of the men. Red-cape and Green-cape started yelling as well, trying to pull them apart. Harry took that as his cue to move.

Moving incredibly slowly, he started moving back towards the bank, crouched low. By then, all of the men were throwing punches at each other, the Green-cloak and the woman trying their best to pull them apart.

The lanky man with the green cloak ended up on his back in the river. Fortunately for him, it was not deep, however it was still freezing. He leapt up, cursing, causing the others to back off slightly.

"BROTHER! Are you alright?" The giant, red-cloaked blonde yelped, rushing over.

"I'm _fine_, Thor!"

Harry had almost reached the trees when the female's eyes locked onto him.

"HEY!" She barked, pulling out her sword.

_ Shit. _

Harry bolted.


End file.
